A Murder of Silhouette
by love-fool
Summary: I’m just a beautiful wreck who’s been mending herself and repenting from her sins that she wore on her skin last year.
1. one

Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. This should be obvious by now.

Warnings: Rated "T" for language and thematic elements. I don't predict that I'll be upping the rating of this story any time soon.

A/N: I started contemplating this story a few years ago, back in the days of Season 4 and 5. This takes place in AU Season 4, after Islands in the Stream. The main reason I had for putting off writing this was working around the time line of this story in regards to the Degrassi universe and due to a little story line in Season 5 that made the originality factor go down. But regardless, after all of this time, I was still attached to this story. I project this to be rather short, maybe five to ten chapters. Reviews are wanted and loved!

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I used to think adolescence and being a teenager would be like, the pinnacle of my life. Emma and I would always snag issues of Teen People or Seventeen or Cosmogirl and marvel at like, what they told us being a teenage girl was like. It just seemed so perfect. I'd be able to wear all of these fashionable clothes and go on dates with cute boys and wield pom poms and just be this real life happy magazine spread. It'd just be so amazing. My life would be like these glossy little photos with perfect models with their perfect hair and their perfect clothes and their perfect smiles. Things would just be so magical. It was just this real life fairy tale that I hoped would come true.

Too bad it never happened.

I'm almost two years into high school right now and my life isn't worthy of a magazine spread. Having the reputation of a cheating baby killing whore isn't a magazine spread. There aren't any happy models, decked out in their fashionable attire. There's nothing but regrets. I mean, isn't that the point of high school? You get all of the stupid rebellious things out of your system before you're forced to grow up. Grow up, find a husband who can support you and treat you to all of the lavish things a good housewife gets. Have a few children. Smile at your children. Raise them and guide them. Yell at them when they slip up in the slightest. Resent them for not being as perfect as you hoped. Watch them and criticize them. Never blame yourself for their slip ups.

It's not as though sophomore year's been all that bad. It's not as though it's been all that great either. It's nothing to write home about. I just go through the motions of it all. Wake up, go to school, go to classes, smile and wave at everyone, cheer my ass off at Spirit Squad practice, go home, eat dinner, talk on the phone, do my homework, and fall asleep. Rinse and repeat until the weekends when I finally get a break from the monotony. I guess I should be thankful though. There's new scandals to cover up the ones that I caused last year. Hey, at least I did something right. No one can do a great scandal like Manny Santos. I have that star quality. I have that quality where you try not to look at me but you can't help it. I'm just a beautiful wreck who's been mending herself and repenting from her sins that she wore on her skin last year. I shed my skin.

But gone are the cat calls and the boys who just wanted me but could never have me. It's kind of a drag in that respects. It's not like during the summer, I caught the Ugly Virus and I'm now making the Elephant Man look like Brad Pitt. Please. But there has to be something wrong with me. Let's face it. JT and I broke up after…differences. JT may have been comfortable but good lord, the boy needs to be introduced to maturity. Such a difficult concept. It's okay though, we've licked our wounds and made nice with one another. We smile and wave to one another in the hallways with a side dish of awkwardness added to the equation. We ask each other what the English homework was. We're like co-workers who had a little bit too much to drink at the Christmas party and hooked up in the copy room. There's no resentment, just this gap between us. There's no going back and erasing anything.

Sure, there was Spinner Mason. Could you just imagine the confidence boost I got when I learned that Paige dumped him because he was totally enamored with me? I had spent so many years sucking up to Paige and licking her boots and just wanting to be her. She ruled Degrassi with a manicured iron fist. She was like a goddess that sat on her heavenly cloud and talked smack about everyone and anything. I envied her. Then her beloved boyfriend gets a hard on for me and poof, someone's not so much of a goddess anymore and hit her ass on the ground after her cloud disappeared. Sure, Spinner was no Craig but he was good enough. And I was good enough for him. It was a perfect match.

Up until Paige and Spinner got back together and Spinner decided he just wanted to be "friends" with me. Paige likes to look at me, all smugly and powerful. I could go and tell her that I let Spinner feel me up when we went on a date to the movies also known as where the Queen Bitch worked. However, she still would one up me. I can never catch a damn break. I guess that's the story of my life.

I was always sort of self conscious of my body. Sure, I loved showing it off with skimpy pieces of clothing and letting the guys fantasize about what I must look like when I lose all of the clothes. However, when they stopped looking, I just…didn't know why. I had lost that tantalizing almost pin up girl reputation that I had in Grade Nine. Boys stopped looking. They stopped noticing me. The world no longer stopped when I wanted it to. Sure, I wasn't…like, ugly. I can point out so many girls that I look better than but I can also point out so many girls that look better than me. For once, couldn't I just be the prettiest one? Everyone has their niche in high school. Would it be so wrong that I could be one of those pretty shiny people that are envied by everyone and it would last more than five seconds? I mean, god. I felt like I was fading away. I felt like I was slowly turning back into my stupid innocent little twit that I had been previously to Grade Nine. I would die before I became that girl again. That girl was stupid and blissfully oblivious to the world. I was no longer that girl. I could never be that girl again. But part of me missed the innocence of my previous years. I missed it when the world was shiny and new and everything just seemed so beautiful and there was just so much beauty that I would soak up as soon as I woke up. Then I woke up and that fairy tale of a perfect world was something I knew was fake. There was no prince charming. There was no Cinderella. There were no storybook endings. Things happened. Life was painful.

It's not like I'm a walking made for television movie. I don't have an eating disorder or anything tragic and cliché like that. I eat. I mean, you have to eat so you can live and breathe. It's common sense. I swear, I can feel Emma's eyes burning into my back when I excuse myself after shoving the gross contents of my lunch tray down my throat. I go to the bathroom. I check to make sure no one's around. God forbid they have some negative ammo against me. I put my fingers down my throat. I vomit into the toilet. It adds up over time. I mean, with all of the calories that I don't digest, I can watch the pounds melt away. It's like my own version of Atkins or the South Beach Diet and I can eat anything I want.

We all have to have our secrets. That's what makes life interesting, no?

My dull and dreary Saturday night gains momentum after I get an invite to a party from Spinner. We're still friends, after all. His parents are out of town and Kendra's staying at a friends so no one's the wiser to the debauchery that's going to take place at the Mason household. Naturally, Spinner just had to call me right when I was brushing my teeth after I had bid the dinner I had goodbye in the toilet as it flushed away. Timing was really never that guy's forte. Everyone who's everyone arrives at the Mason household. Jocks. Cheerleaders. Members of the elite social groups. Me, in a denim skirt that I hope flatters my curves that I hope are fading into oblivion.

"Manny, hon, that outfit looks sensational," Paige chirps as she leans her shoulder into Spinner. I know Paige's game. I modeled mine after hers. She knows how to subtlety push people's buttons. Paige Michalchuk is the fucking Picasso of this art form. "I mean, who knew that something off the sales rack could look that good?"

I flash her a fake smile. It's artificial and sees through her bullshit and wants to claw her face out because she's just dangling Spinner in front of me like some sort of hunky forbidden fruit. God, I hate her. "Thanks, Paige," I chirp, imitating her usually degrading tone just perfectly. I've always been a wonderful actress. "And thanks for the invite, Spin. I hope I'll see you later," I add, in a subtle flirtatious way as I saunter away from the happy couple. God, I hope they get into a fight over that. How awesome would that be?

But instead of waiting for the hoped for wreckage, I plop onto the Mason living room couch and try to disappear into it, beer cup in hand. I watch the people move to the music playing on the stereo, almost like ocean waves before they crash into the land. People converse and I fill in the blanks as to what the hot topic of conversation is. Among all of the joy and fun, there's one lone argument filtering through the carefree atmosphere. It's funny, I've always been so much on the side of prying eyes. People have watched me. It's funny for me to be on the other side. It's odd how simply beautiful people can look but be so incredibly ugly underneath. It's more sad than funny, to be perfectly honest. We're all so good at putting a filter on our lives. We don't filter our bullshit out that makes people believe we're okay and we're better than them. Honesty is dead and buried. No one knows anyone or anything. That's the sad reality of it all.

"Is anyone sitting here?" Sometime has passed since I staked out the couch as my sanctuary.

A polite soul. Someone who might just so happen to be genuine and kind. That person must be a rare and dying breed.

I shrug. "No, it's fine. Sit." The voice is recognizable and familiar. I mean, it would be to anyone who walks the halls of Degrassi. We've had acquaintances and friends in common but it's not as though we've had one on one quality time. But he's never been one of those people who have ridiculed me or judged me or anything. We're familiar strangers. And now we're sharing a couch.

He falls carelessly onto the couch as I peek over my shoulder. A drunken Jimmy Brooks sits next to me, beer bottle in hand as he guzzles it down. The famous smile that everyone usually sees plastered on his flawless face is mysteriously absent. He looks sad and empty. It's almost heart breaking.

"Um. Is anything wrong," I ask delicately.

He laughs, almost sadly and bitterly. "Hazel and I got into a fight. She dumped me. Everyone's just great," He slurs. It's obvious he's been knocking them back. I mean, it's not as though I thought Jimmy Brooks was this saint. It's a party. However, I don't know why someone would knock back several beers over Hazel. She's Paige's lap dog. She's only popular by association. She licks Paige's boots and succumbs to all of her commands and wishes. I can see a bit of myself in Hazel Aden and that makes me hate myself a little bit. I thought I was better and stronger than that. Guess I was wrong.

"Oh," I say carefully. "I'm sorry about that."

He shrugs casually, as if he didn't get his heart totally and completely broken. Anyone who goes to Degrassi knows there's just something so beautifully care free about Jimmy Brooks. He just glides through life but you can tell that he's totally and completely for all of the fortunes that he receives whether it be popularity, good looks, or sensational basketball skills. You can't help but like the guy.

"Thanks," He says appreciatively. "It's whatever though, you know? I think the whole thing was a long time coming."

I fondle the empty beer cup in my hands, fidgeting a little bit. It's a little bit unnerving to have someone talk to me like that, oh so candidly. Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's just how Jimmy Brooks is, in general. I wouldn't know. We're connected by a game of telephone and six degrees of separation. Jimmy Brooks is a god of popularity, like the celebrity that all of the regular old people want to meet but never do.

"Oh," I respond, nervously. "What do…you mean by that?" The only thing I can do is really ask questions. Questions with answers that I wouldn't dare to guess. Questions with answers that I'm hearing first hand. I could throw it in Hazel's stupid face, that her boyfriend vented to me and took comfort in my company a mere few minutes after their relationship was demolished and then some. Sure, I have no problem with committing crimes against the female species. My past tiffs with Emma, Ashley Kerwin, and Paige Michalchuk aren't national secrets that someone wants to keep under lock and key. Girls are catty and conniving. We're superficial and we decimate each other's self esteem with a few well placed insults.

Guys don't do that to each other though. Someone maybe gets punched and then all is forgiven with a simple "Sorry, bro" and a pat on the back. There's no false pretenses. There's no bullshit. Guys don't take it upon themselves to have friendships that benefit one another socially or walk over people to get what they want. They don't talk smack about one another once someone's back is turned. There's this raw honesty between them. If only they could give us girls that raw honesty but I guess they can't afford that.

"It was almost like we got together because it seemed natural, you know," He starts off, candidly and with a hint of beer laden honesty. "And we had some good times. I can't lie and say we didn't. Hazel's a great girl and all but…it just felt like we were standing still. I guess she felt the same way too. That doesn't mean it hurt any less though." He looks at me for a moment, his eyes settling on me and living on me. For a moment, they just reside there before he turns away. "Yeah, uh. Don't mind me. I just needed to let it all out. I didn't mean to tell you my whole life story."

I smile politely, "No, it's cool. I'm a good listener. But…I know how it goes. JT and I went through the same thing. Even though we broke up and I dumped him, it didn't mean that it sucked any less. Especially considering we'd been friends since we were back in elementary school." I pause, still fiddling around with the lone and empty beer cup. "It gets easier though," I say in my best comforting voice.

"Yeah," He nods before locking eye contact with me for a moment. This is one of those rare and honest moments that you have with a person. One of those moments that you'll just have burned in your brain. This is probably the most honest I've been with a guy ever. I know Jimmy Brooks, even while drunk and dumped, isn't the kind of guy to just look at me and think of me as just a piece of ass. Maybe I've been looking in the wrong direction and at all of the wrong guys. Sully. Craig. JT. Spinner. Maybe this is some sort of sign. Or maybe this is the confessions of a drunk guy to the only poor sap who would listen to them. Maybe…

"Brooks," a voice comes up and out of nowhere as I'm sitting here, staring at Jimmy Brooks and lost in my own little world. I jolt back into reality, seeing Marco Del Rossi standing in front of us. "Designated Marco has arrived. Get up and let's blow this popsicle stand. You know, if you're still feeling down, we can go back to my place and watch Saved By the Bell---"

Jimmy laughs at Marco's suggestion as he gets up. "Thanks but no thanks. I just wanna get home and crash. I have practice early tomorrow." Of course, they start to walk away from the couch. It's not like I came with either of them and Marco and I aren't best friends at the moment. Plus, heart broken drunk friend surely triumphs his best friend's ex fling.

"Manny," Jimmy turns around. "You need a ride?"

"The more the merrier," Marco adds as the two of them look back in my general direction. I look around for a moment. Leaving would be a godsend right about now. Sully just broke a vase while Spinner flips his lid at him. Heather Sinclaire is grinding up against an anonymous football player. People are head banging to Spinner's Jimmy Eat World CD that he used to play in the car whenever we went out. I totally and completely hate that stupid CD but not as much as I hate seeing Craig and Ashley all cozy. Jimmy and Marco have provided me with an exit strategy. This is the best chance I have at getting out of here before this party becomes the total epitome of everything I hate.

"No, I'm fine," I spit out, unexpectedly. "Liberty's coming to pick me up." Total lie. I walked to this party but there's some sort of block I have that's preventing me from going and hitching a ride with Jimmy and Marco. God knows what it is.

"Oh, okay. See you, Santos," Marco bids his goodbyes while Jimmy gives me a nod and waves as they blow this joint. I'm left alone with nothing but the throbbing sounds of Bleed American and the drunk shenanigans of those around me to keep me company. I toss my red plastic cup into a lone garbage bag, sagging down onto the floor and with its contents about to burst out and litter about on the previously clean living room rug.

Now I know what it's like to feel stuck. Literally.


	2. two

Girls may be totally catty towards each other. It's just in our DNA. We pick apart at each other. We feel insecure towards one another. Jealousy is a full fledged monster that haunts us. We gossip away with our acid tongues and our harsh words. Hello, it's high school. Mean Girls completely had it right with painting us the cruel picture of what wars we can wage against each other. Reputations are shattered. Egos are burned down to the ground. Friendships are ripped apart and thrown into obscurity. It's full tilt jungle madness.

At the end of the day, I'm lucky to have those few precious life lines that are the hug we need, the confidence boost, we crave, and the ear we whisper our secrets into. I'm a sucker for girl power. Emma and I used to bop around to Spice and Spice World all of the time back in the days of elementary school. She was Baby Spice and I was Posh. We were empowered by the lyrics and mesmerized by the beats we concocted dance moves to. Gone are the days of innocent jam fests and crooning lyrics that we didn't know had double dirty little meanings to them.

It's been a week since the ever famous Spinner Mason party that was all the rage and the foundation of that week's gossip. One of Degrassi's golden couples got torn apart by the currents of high school and life. Goodbye to Hazel and Jimmy. It was the talk of Spirit Squad practice that Monday as Paige excused her visibly upset best friend from practice before going all evil dictator on the rest of us. I clung to Darcy Edwards, most of the time. She reminds me of me back in the days of early grade eight and the beginnings of grade nine. She's all wide eyed and impressionable. It's adorable. So, without any hesitation whatsoever, I invited her to the sleepover that was my very own brain child. Thankfully, Emma and Liberty have since put aside their differences over the whole Chris Sharpe business. Hello, if you're going to fight over a guy, please go and fight over one that's _at least_ a six on the hot scale.

The big advantage to having girl friends is the fact that my parents would rather keel over and die than have me invite a boy over. This, of course, was in even more full throttle after their precious daughter managed to get herself knocked up by a boy she was the other woman with. I got an abortion. I repented and said "Hail Mary's" until I was blue in the face. I was totally and completely desperate to have my parents' respect again. If I couldn't have the respect of my fellow classmates and former friends, then at least I could go home and not be totally chastised and resented by my parents. I know that they can't look at me without seeing all of my sins. I just wish it weren't that way anymore. I wish they could see how hard I've tried to be good and perfect. I guess that just isn't enough and my past sins can be forgiven but not forgotten.

But they managed to trust me enough to invite Emma, Liberty, and Darcy over on an idle Friday night. They managed to trust me enough to go out by themselves that evening but had no problem with leaving my college attending brother in charge. Of course, he bitched and moaned over the prospect of having to look over four teenage girls as opposed to living it up down at Smithdale University. But when it came to my brother, Phillip's tactics for "watching over his sister and her friends" consisted of either of the following or some combination of them: a) getting stoned while slaving over his video game console and playing Resident Evil, b) inviting over a few of his hot college friends, and/or c) inviting over his girlfriend of the minute. God knows how Phillip managed to be quite the campus stud. He's the boy who cried when I stomped on his Pokemon Gameboy cartridge.

Junk food bags are littered about my room as I clutch my diet soda. Liberty and Darcy are resting comfortably on their stomachs with their heads propped up with their hands as Emma pops in another disc of That 70's Show. Danny Masterson and Wilmer Valderrama light up the screen as Fez and his accent question Hyde's mom on her duties as being Gross Edna the cafeteria lady. I look down at the bag of Cheetohs that are next to me and totally empty. God, I shouldn't have engorged those so fast. They're going to go straight to my ass unless I do something about it.

"Okay, Emma," Darcy starts out, still looking at the screen which now has a frantic and confused Kelso trying to figure out what his father's career just so happens to be. I'm just as clueless as him. "Marry, Bop, Kill. Kelso, Hyde, Eric."

"Easy," Emma sits Indian style on the floor while popping open her can of soda. "Marry Hyde, bop Eric, kill Kelso."

I perk up, "Why on earth would you kill _Kelso_? Hello, the guy is so hot. It's Ashton Kutcher."

"I don't care if it's Ashton Kutcher. Kelso's an _idiot_. Hyde is all about fighting the power and everything. I like that in a man. Topher Grace is hot and all but Eric's kind of whiney and doormat, at that. C'mon, Manny, what would you say?"

"Easy," I start, licking the cheddar powder off of my fingers. "Marry Kelso, bop Hyde, kill Eric. Liberty?"

Liberty attempts to get herself comfortable and fiddles around with the remote in her hand. "It's completely unfair to exclude Fez from the equation," She muses, while fondling the remote as we all look at her, eyebrows arched and jaws dropped. She notices. "…What? I have a little bit thing for Wilmer Valderama. God knows why but don't tell me that you don't laugh at a good fraction of what comes out of his mouth."

Emma chuckles, recrossing her legs while leaning up against my bed. God, I would kill to have Emma's figure. I could always tell that Emma was slightly uncomfortable, always being the tall and lanky one. However, does she not realize that she could easily throw her inhibitions and principles to the wind and become a model? No, she doesn't. I guess that makes Emma a little bit prettier in my book. Sometimes a confident girl is drop dead gorgeous but there's something secretly beautiful about those girls who don't realize they could have the world at their feet.

"We all know by now that Liberty likes her men with a sense of humor," Emma remarks. "You know, I'm seriously surprised that you have yet to notice that JT has it _bad_ for you." Most girls would find it totally and completely awkward that another one of their friends has had an epic crush on one of their ex-boyfriends since the dawn of time. It's _Liberty_ and _JT_. They're like, destined. It's written in the stars. It's a tale as old as time. Or…something like that.

Liberty gets flustered, "That's kind of preposterous, Emma. JT doesn't…have it bad for me. We're just friends, if you will. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"Wait, I'm confused and still sadly suffering from new girl syndrome," Darcy quips after managing to tear herself away from the television. I'm still lusting over Ashton Kutcher circa 1998. Celebrity crushes are so much more better than real crushes. I mean, it's all fantasy. It's all intangible. There's no stings that come along with the reality of making the crush you have on the cute guy in your class happen or not happen. There's none of that.

"Liberty has had a massive thing for JT since like, the dawn of time---"

Liberty interrupts, "Okay, that's just inaccurate."

Emma shoots her a look, "Uh huh, and I eat meat. So anyway, Liberty's had this thing for JT Yorke since the dawn of time, as I was saying. And me and Manny sort of always thought that JT had a thing for Liberty too but hello, JT's a teenage boy. He's immature about it. He and Manny had a little thing but they decided they were better off as just friends. However, as of lately, it's just so obvious that JT has it bad for Liberty."

"Maybe you should ask him out," Darcy suggests, innocently. The more and more time that I spend time with this girl, the more I see glimpses of how I used to be. I mean, sure, I'm not sure if Darcy owns some of those awful grade eight get ups that I used to wear to school, thinking they were so cute and stylish. But she's just so _idealistic_ and has yet to get knocked on her ass. God, it makes me jealous. She's cute, happy, and sparkly.

"See? Someone agrees with me, Liberty." I'm half listening at this point, ready to point the remote at the television screen and go to the next episode. I'm so over this Liberty and JT talk. It's the song that the radio stations play and gush over as being the hot song of the moment. Hello, we get it. Everyone's listening to the song. Everyone keeps requesting it. But does that mean the rest of us have to keep listening to it over and over again? It's tired. Then again, popular consensus is a bitch and a half. Everyone's screaming at the top of their lungs for JT and Liberty to just get it over with and start dating. They're this epic couple which is great and all. I'm happy for the two of them. We're all friends here. I mean, c'mon, I'm mature when it comes to things like this unlike some people would be, such as the object of Liberty's affections. It's just so tiring after a while, having all of these flings with boys while everyone's all held hands and sweet kisses. Then I get either a boy whose mentality is that of a twelve year old boy or the guy whom is totally whipped by his ex-girlfriend and just wanted…god knows what. I am not going to be expected to take a Rosetta stone and try to decipher the inner workings of Spinner Mason's mind.

Oh well, at least he was a good kisser. And I almost got his virginity.

"Manny?"

I glance up and Emma, Liberty, and Darcy are looking at me with expectant eyes, as if I'm supposed to come up with some huge excuse as to why I'm not all there with the happy JT and Liberty conversation fest that sounds like some sort of informercial that's telling me to buy like, hot curlers or something. Buy JT and Liberty for only three easy payments of nineteen dollars and ninety nine cents plus shipping and handling. Buy them, make them that hot high school couple they're destined to be. Call within the next ten minutes and get a free Wet Vac too!

"Oh, sorry. Liberty, JT has the hots for you. He was trying to look down your shirt at lunch on Wednesday and he acts all weird and nervous around you," I chime expertly in my supportive best friend tone that I've acquired over the years. "Ask him out before I swear to god, I will kill you if you don't. Get on with your confident hot self, Liberty." I'd like to thank the academy. I pat her reassuringly on the shoulder and she smiles up at me. Liberty's not one of those vain girls whose life revolves around boys. That's why she was sort of a supreme loser in junior high. Girl World is a bitch, coupled with a shot of high school. But Liberty's so confident with herself. She knows that she's this genius. Hello, everyone knows. She's headstrong. There's just something so admirable about her. Plus, if she had just a little bit of a make-over, I know she'd be a knock out.

"Well, those are some fighting words, Manny," Liberty laughs, in a slightly embarrassed tone. I pull myself up from the floor and start walking out of my room. I forgot about those Cheetohs I inhaled like a total and complete cow. Please, like I need a huge bag of Cheetohs in my system to survive.

"Manny, where are you going," Emma asks as Darcy's parked herself behind her, trying to French braid her hair and is clearly struggling. It's so adorable. I'll have to teach Darcy how to do it the right way one of these days.

"Oh, bathroom break. And I should make sure that Phillip isn't smoking all of Canada's weed," I smile and lie expertly. Lying is my main form of communication. I lie, lie, lie. Then again, who doesn't? Sometimes, honesty just isn't something that people want. Sometimes, people just can't handle it. I understand that. So, I lie. Big deal.

I scurry out of my room and down the hallway, the sounds of Resident Evil coming from my brother's room as there's also a symphony accompaniment of him screaming at the television and cursing the existence of the game. Yeah, yet the guy gets all of this ass at Smithdale University. It's a Santos thing. We're good looking. Well, I think.

The bathroom is a place I see the inside of so much. I don't think my parents have noticed. Besides, me making frequent bathroom breaks isn't exactly something that would cause the red flag to go up. They just don't want their baby daughter to go down the dark road of being a total and complete whore that she went down last year. I can still see the disappointment in their eyes as they look at me. I try not to be that girl anymore but I can't be who I was before grade nine. Everything's just spinning away from me. I can feel the distance between myself and Emma that we're trying to mend. All of my ex boyfriends have moved onto, respectively. Everyone's just moving. They're moving on or forward. I'm just standing still. Just like Jimmy. I know what that means now.

The sink is on full blast as I kneel down on the cold floor, staring down at the crystal clear toilet water. It's so routine for me to just push my fingers down my throat and feel my gag reflex react. Vomit spills into the toilet bowl, tainting the clear water. I can't help but be proud of the fact that hey, maybe my jeans will fit a little bit better on me Monday morning. That's something, isn't it?

Even after I flush the toilet, sometimes I just sit on the floor for a little while. It's this moment where I just feel totally serene and calm. No one interrupts you when you're in the bathroom. They know you're doing private business. It's almost like a safe haven. I can just sit, with my head against the wall as I wipe my mouth and hands with a square of toilet paper and let this wave of total and complete calm take over me. It's nice. It's something that's all mine.

The soap covers my hands as I wash them, scrubbing until I realized I just scratched myself with my own fingernail. I turn the water off, drying my hands off with the fancy little fluffy towel my mom took about twenty minutes to pick out while she dragged me out shopping. Hello, it's a towel. It's not a future husband. It's time to go back to the little sleepover I orchestrated.

As I swing open the door, ready to lead myself back to the party, Liberty's standing outside the bathroom door with her back against the wall. Oh my god. No. I would literally die if Liberty found out due to being like, a total and complete genius about my secret bathroom rendezvous. I can't have the one piece of sanctuary and solace just ripped away from me. It's the one thing that makes me protected and the one simple thing that I have total and complete control with. I'm in the driver's seat of my own car and I control the speed.

"Darcy and I did rock, paper, scissors and I'm in charge of getting the next round of smoothies from the kitchen," Liberty addresses me as I close the door behind me. "Look, Manny, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Okay, ask me."

Liberty sighs, wringing her hands. "Everyone's right in there. You and Emma, when it comes to JT. Even though I had that thing for Emma's ex-boyfriend for about five seconds, I…like JT. There it is, plain and simple. Always have, always will. I need to do something about it, despite being mind blowingly nervous about how it's going to affect our friendship, whether it's in the way I want it to or whether he flat out rejects me. I know you guys dated and had that…bizarre break up of yours. And with the history you guys had, I…don't want to be disrespecting anything." She pauses, slightly. "Just tell me, straight up, if you don't want me to make a move or you're still holding a torch for him. I just want you're blessing because well, you're my best friend."

I smile a little bit. "Oh c'mon, Liberty. You know that if you didn't have my blessing, I would've clawed your eyes out already. You've liked JT since biblical times, so you two have way more history than me and JT did. We…weren't compatible, okay?"

"I'm glad. Part of me was hoping that you didn't skip out because of how JT and myself centric everything had become," Liberty admits. God. Why can't all girls be like Liberty? Liberty's just this girl who has no problem with speaking her mind. She holds her head up high. She's confident. She has nothing to hide. It's sickening. "And I just wanted to say that for the record, I'm sorry things with you and Spinner didn't work out." If it were anyone else, I'd be so saying that it was one of those condescending pity talks that a girl can get from like, her lab partner about a break-up but it's Liberty. "Although I have to admit, you can do better. Spinner's sort of a Neanderthal. Plus, Marco was saying at a student council meeting about how Spinner asked him how to spell 'communism'."

"Thanks."

"Besides, there's other eligible bachelors out there. What was that great advice someone told me? Oh. Right," She laughs. "Get on with your hot self, Manny Santos," Liberty spits out, slightly awkwardly considering _that _coming out of her mouth is just so un-Liberty that it's a little bit on the hysterical side. I can't help but giggle and feel my mouth turn into a little bit of a smile.

I guess this is one of those precious moments a girl needs.


	3. three

The thing about winter is that unfortunately, there are those dreary days. You know, the days where the dark clouds loom outside and you pray that the snow is just going to sprinkle from the sky, signaling an early release from school and total and complete freedom. Then you can haul ass home, camp out and do positively nothing due to the fact that there's a snow storm outside. I love lazy days like those. Except, of course, when there's no forecast of snow and my mom screeched at me to get up. My mother's nagging tone is the kind of voice that makes countries go to war and cars to crash. She nagged to me about the importance of my education, like if I don't go to school one single day, I'm going to go and resign myself to having to become a stripper as opposed to like, curing cancer. I honestly won't even try to comprehend the scare tactics that parents use against their kids. I mean, seriously, it's like trying to solve a Rubik's Cube. You may you think you're able to but all you're going to be is frustrated after many failed attempts. So, ultimately, you're just going to be like, "Okay, screw this!"

Even if my mother hadn't screeched at me, there were still a few reasons to get up this morning.

The first, of course, was the excruciating test on The Count of Monte Cristo in Miss Kwan's class. Sure, consulting Spark Notes for the test might've not been the smartest idea but there's only so much of that total snooze fest that I can take without wanting to hang myself. Besides, my English grade is hanging in the balance. I realize I'm playing Russian Roulette with my grades but god, what the hell? I know I'm not a total genius. I'm trying to do what I can with what I have. It's frustrating…not measuring up. I hate looking around in the masses of students that trickle in and out of the halls of Degrassi and pinpointing who's smarter than me, who's prettier than me, and so on and so forth. Being a high school student is the single most exhausting career on the planet. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.

Second, naturally, was Spirit Squad practice. It's a bittersweet moment of the day. Of course, I'm a fabulous addition to the Spirit Squad. I know my routines thoroughly and can do them with my eyes closed. I'm the integral part of a symphony of blue and yellow. I'm the important and whimsical guitar solo of some amazing ballad. See, there are some departments I can't help but be awesome in. Unfortunately, there's a catch to the situation. Paige may know that her squad would be a train wreck without yours truly but it's not like the girl's ever going to acknowledge it. She is the only planet in her universe with Hazel orbiting around her like a lone moon that does as its told. Rotate, rotate, revolve around the planet. Rinse and repeat. But still, I await the day where when Paige graduates and hands down the reins to me, myself, and I. I can just visualize the whole thing in my head. It's Paige's last Spirit Squad before graduating and bidding us all farewell. She sighs, reluctantly. Then, she says how it was "such a totally hard decision" and says that I'm the new Spirit Squad captain. People rejoice. There's celebration out in the streets. Manny Santos has come to save the masses from a long and tyrannous rein. And then all of the ass kissing, bullshit, and everything else between myself and Paige Michalchuk finally has some meaning.

The third part had become the pinnacle of my day for the past two weeks is basically a period of three seconds between third and fourth period. Normally, it'd be the time of day where Emma and I would idly chit chat while going from English to Lunch to meet the rest of the gang. Sure, there was a hiatus for a while when Emma decided that she wanted to have some sort of body snatching experience and go be Paige's best friend. We may have known each other for eons and eons but I'm not going to go and publish some manual about the inner workings of Emma Nelson's mind. I don't think so. But since then, we've reunited and it feels…good. Sometimes, it feels so weird that after everything, Emma and I are still friends. But I guess there are some things that are just reliable. My friendship with Emma is like turning on the evening news. Sure, you may not want to watch it but you know that it's always going to be on at six o'clock on the dot. …Not that I watch the news but you catch my drift.

After handing my test into Miss Kwan and picturing the horrible red "F" on it in bright red shiny ink, Emma and I meet up in the mob scene of a hallway.

"So, I think that Alexandre Dumas is going to come back from the dead and congratulate me for getting a wonderfully amazing grade on that test," Emma beams as we walk, side by side towards the stairwell. "How do you think you did?"

I imagine Miss Kwan sighing and placing the test on my desk. I imagine the big red "F" just staring me down and taunting me. I imagine her telling me that I'm going to have to get it signed by my parents and the yelling and the screaming. All of those thoughts and fears make me sick to my stomach. God.

"Oh, fine," I smile, half heartedly. The words "Fine" and what I presume my fate is going to be have one single thing in common: the letter "F".

It's then that the three seconds that are so worth coming to school for walks into my line of vision. Of course, he's attached to my former whatever it is that we were as they chat about guy stuff, whatever that might be. At this point, Emma's going on about the Whack Your Brain team and how Rick Murray transferring to Lakehurst is going to detrimentally affect the outcome of the competition that's coming up soon. It's easy to tune out Emma's drabble as everything around me totally and completely blurs around me. It's like one of those moments in those cheesy teen movies that I love where the object of the main character's affection is the center of focus and just glides on screen while majestic music plays.

"Manny, hey," Jimmy Brooks greets me, with Spinner at his side. His smile is one that can cure cancer, stop wars, and repair poverty inflicted countries. There's just something about Jimmy Brooks that makes it so that he like, enters all of my thoughts. When I'm in Math, listening to Mr. Armstrong drone on and on about how to prove that a triangle is really a triangle, I think about how Jimmy Brooks is in Media Immersion and how he's goofing around with Spinner.

Not that I stalk Jimmy Brooks. I mean, hello, I am so not Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. My five second fling with Spinner just provided me with information that's now convenient.

"Hey, you," I chirp, happily. Spinner gives Emma and I the obligatory guy nod. I mean, thank god that Spinner didn't open his mouth. Interacting with him just makes it so that all I can see in my head is how our relationship slash fling slash whatever it'd be construed as fell on its ass. And of course, days after that, Paige and him were sitting in the cafeteria, bathing each other in pet names and intertwined fingers.

And with that, the three seconds have ended as Jimmy and Spinner walk past us towards their lockers. Meanwhile, I'm standing there, knowing that those three seconds don't impact Jimmy Brooks the way that they impact me. I know, who would've thought? You never can look at a person and think that during some point in time, you're going to just sit there and think about them ad nauseum. I never thought that thinking about Jimmy Brooks would make my stomach perform a gymnastics routine and for the trademark blush, the tale tell signs of a major crush, to spread across my face.

Not that I have some humongous crush on Jimmy Brooks. He's cute, he's sweet. But crush? Yeah. No. …Okay, maybe a little bit.

"Okay, did I miss the memo that you and Jimmy Brooks are all of a sudden best friends," Emma interrogates me as we descend down the stairs.

I shrug. Lying has always been my forte. "C'mon, Em, I say hi to a lot of people. Jimmy's…cool." Cool? Seriously, Santos? Out of all of the adjectives of the English language, you pick "cool"? God, no wonder why my English grade is taking a good old fashioned nose dive.

"I just find it a little bit odd that you and Jimmy are all…buddy buddy when your ex-boyfriends are two of his best friends," Emma replies. There's this horribly annoying thing about Emma Nelson. When she says things like that, she tries her best to not be, well, a condescending bitch. That's my best friend, ladies and gentlemen. Always the ones with the opinions, always the knowledgeable one. Her thoughts on everything can be complied into a library, complete with an organizational system. It's a bonafide wonder that her and Paige didn't continue to be the best of friends, they both have that whole blonde Type A personality thing down pat.

I sigh. I hate this constant weight on my shoulder, the fact that I always feel the need to justify myself. It's just not to Emma, it's practically to everyone around me. Everyone wants an explanation. Of course, they want the explanation that they want to hear. I'm one person.

"Jimmy and I sort of ran into each other at Spinner's party and got to talking," I explain, finally succumbing to how things work in the Emma Nelson empire. "He's a nice guy. That's all."

For once, Emma decides to give up as she decides to change the subject to mindless chatter about whether or not she should sign up for the school play. Once again, I'm back to being cast as Emma's sidekick. Sometimes, I miss the days where everyone knew me for me, even if I did have to wear miniscule clothing and offer up my dignity on a silver platter. Fame comes as a huge price. People sacrifice themselves just so they can have their fifteen minutes of fame. Is it ever really worth it? Sure, people still liked to chatter about me and sometimes, it'd get silent in the girls' washroom when I walked in. But I'm nothing more than a fading star nowadays. It's almost insulting. At least last year, people couldn't get enough of babbling about every rumor that people pulled out of thin air. Now, it's like I might as well not exist. Talk about a blow to your ego.

Lunch and the rest of the day slide by carelessly. My lunch period is spent with the gang that consists of myself, Emma, Liberty, JT, Toby, and Darcy. Liberty and JT engage themselves in playful flirtatious banter and it's obvious that Liberty has yet to get off her ass and finally confess her feelings for JT. Emma babbles about how she's loading up on extracurricular activities so that her university application looks good. Please, Emma's would look positively flawless. Toby chimes in about Whack Your Brain and Darcy and I spend most of the period talking incessantly about the most recent episode of One Tree Hill. And typical to the routine of lunch, Shelia's tasty cafeteria findings travel from my mouth to my stomach and to the toilet of the girls' washroom. Classes pass with what I wished would be lightning speed. It's all a big fat blur of pretending to squeak by and appease everyone. That's my life, just pleasing people. I know it's totally selfish but can't I just do things that appease me? No, that would be selfish and that would be like having a murder rap on my record.

Being in school after the last bell has rang is kind of like, a surreal world. Even if you're there for sports, clubs, or god forbid, _detention_, it's this whole different planet. You can walk down the halls without being swallowed up by the constant stream of people walking down them. It's nice. It's refreshing. Unless, of course, you're stuck in the gymnasium and are under the rule of an evil dictator blonde by the name of Paige Michalchuk. Of course, I'm a crucial member of the squad but it's not like Paige is ever going to hand out the praise that I seriously deserve.

"Five, six, seven, eight!"

Paige commands us as we move as a unit, like an army going into battle. Our routine is carefully choreographed and perfectly timed to the mash up that she informed us Ashley Kerwin made on her computer. You had to hand it to Paige, her anal retentive tendencies did sometimes have a positive outcome. We're flawless. We're well engineered, a well oiled machine that won't ever need any repairs. Add in a blur of blue and yellow and we're something straight out of a perfectly synchronized routine in Bring It On. Darcy's on the right of me, trying so hard to keep up with the intricate routine that Paige concocted. I know the look that Darcy has on her face when she looks at me. It's pretty similar to the look that I used to look at Paige. I idealized her because well, I thought that Paige was the queen of positively everything. Paige knew everything where I, on the other hand, knew nothing and more nothing. Paige was sassy and knowledgeable.

We're nothing short of fabulous. Our movements are like visual poetry. Not, of course, that scat free form poetry or whatever it's called. I wouldn't know. It was liquid poetry, the kind that anyone could appreciate without having a degree in English. Not to mention, we looked hot. I don't know what it is with guys and cheerleaders. Maybe it's because we're always agile and in short skirts. Guys are simple creatures, really. Young, old. Nice guy, jackass. Every guy wants a girl who shakes pom poms and struts her stuff like nobody's business.

"Okay, okay, okay," Paige stops us all while waving her hands around, all frantically. "Heather, you're about as useful as Sully at a Friendship Club meeting right now. Everyone else, are you all on downers or something? This isn't working for me." She groans. "Let's just all take ten and then somehow manage to actually do a simple little routine effortlessly, okay?" Of course, Paige's standards aren't up to those people who are living in the real world. It's just how she operates. She sets the bar so high and puts herself up on such a huge pedestal so that no one can reach her and she just keeps climbing higher and higher so she can reach that bar. On one hand, I have to admire that. On another, sometimes I just want to see her fall. That's horrible, right?

The army of cheerleaders disperses into different directions. Darcy and I are about a good five feet away from Paige and Hazel, catching our breath and bathing in the luxury of this ten minute break. Unfortunately, given how far away we are from Paige, it's not enough of a distance for us to start bitching and ranting about how Paige is like some sort of dictator that Mr. Perino goes on and on about in History class.

"So, you will never believe who asked me for my number today," Hazel chimes with a mixture of smugness and glee to her voice as she turns to Paige.

"Hazel, no need for the suspense. Just spit it out."

"That guy, Mohammed, who's from the wrestling team. I mean, I know he's a total jerk and all but he's just _so hot_," Hazel says dreamily. Obviously, Hazel is over Jimmy and then some. What an idiot.

Paige snorts, "Hazel, honey, how do I put this nicely?" She pauses. "I hear that Mohammed and Sully get bored and sniff glue together in Sully's mom's basement on the weekends. Talk about disgusting."

"You also heard that Heather Sinclaire got her car by prostituting herself at the ravine," Hazel remarks.

"I have my sources."

Darcy and I just lean against the gym wall, letting the chatter that belongs to both Paige and Hazel just engross us. Hazel yammers on and on about how Mohammed would be the first date she'd been on since Jimmy, if she decided to accept that date with him. I sigh, looking at my nails and giving Darcy a look. Unfortunately, Darcy's still earning her degree in Degrassi Hierarchy 101 so it's not as though she has a clue about…remotely anything that they're talking about right now.

"You know what you need," Paige chimes as I can just tell the gears are turning in the thought factory that is Paige's brain. For a moment, I feel mildly afraid for Hazel. It's a fleeting moment that's gone in like, a nano second. "A totally wonderful girls' night. We can go out, get you a real man that doesn't hot box it with Sully in his car during lunch. What do you say?" It's then that Paige turns around and notices myself and Darcy, casually chilling on the sidelines. "Well, Manny Santos. You're invited."

"To what?" Playing the oblivious 'I haven't been listening to this conversation' card is something I do oh so well.

"Duh, girls' night with me and Hazel here," Paige replies, as if it's the most obvious thing on the planet. "Hazel needs a man and I'm sure you're better at scoping out guys these days than I am. I mean, I guess this is one of those departments where having a hot and amazing boyfriend doesn't come in handy." I bite my lip as I look at Paige, her face having an obnoxious little grin drawn onto it. I want to break her teeth. This is so typical Paige.

Two can play this game though. "Oh, you know I'm in," I chime, trying to hide the sting I feel from the mention of Spinner. "Besides, with my luck, I'll find Hazel a boyfriend who's so much hotter than Spinner Mason." Paige rolls her eyes while Hazel grins and starts saying about how much fun we're going to have before they ultimately walk away, chattering. What the hell did I just get myself into?

"Hello, am I like, invisible," Darcy whines, slightly while looking from the dynamic duo to myself.

I look at her, sympathetically, "To them…yes." While scanning the spacious gymnasium, there's a certain sight that catches my eye. "But give me a second, Darce. There's something I need to go do." I pat her on the shoulder, smile sweetly, and then trot off towards the opposite side of the gym where there's the sound of a familiar voice just chatting away.

"Get this, Oscar, my mom made me watch Desperate Housewives with her last weekend," JT chats away, cradling his mascot head in his arms, engrossed in the sound of his own voice. JT knows how to get practically anyone to listen to him. "And I don't know, at first, I hated it. Then, I liked it. Then I fell asleep and had this weird crossover dream where it was Scream meets Desperate Housewives and Nicolette Sheridan was trying to stab me because she was Ghostface… Freaky, huh?" He shudders.

Before Oscar gets a chance to say anything, I pat JT on the shoulder. "JT, buddy, pal," I greet him, complete with a sticky sweet tone of voice and a smile to match, as if they were made for each other, like a set of matched and cozy pajamas. "Wanna do me a favor?"

He furrows his eyebrow in total confusion. "Um, if it involves a possibility of jail time and life without parole, I'm gonna have to pass…"

I sigh. I've always been one for meddling. It's just this little habit I have. I guess it's because sadly, my own romantic life seems to be this grand disaster yet in a twist of irony, I'm wonderful when it comes to handling everyone else's. God knows how. "No, it just involves you getting up off your ass and doing something you should've done a long time ago," I inform him.

"You're starting to sound like my mother before she tells me to clean my room," JT remarks, skeptically. "I'm officially terrified."

God, JT frustrates me sometimes. "Stop being such a total wuss and go and ask Liberty out already!" It's seriously starting to torture me, having to watch JT and Liberty be totally oblivious to the fact that they like each other and then none of them does anything about it. I mean, they've made some pretty convincing arguments as to why they haven't made a move. I get it, the risk of potentially running over their friendship with a mack truck is really huge. However, isn't it just worth the risk? It's almost beautiful, how they feel about each other and how after all of this time, they could just get together and…love each other unconditionally. But love's tricky. It's scary. It's like a beautiful piece of artwork one day and the next, you're grasping at nothing and wondering what the hell went wrong. It's beautiful but it's also stomach turning and earth shattering at the same time.

"Well, you're one for getting straight to the point," JT thinks he just cleverly avoided what I said.

"JT," I start off, attempting to figure out how not to just wring his neck. "You like Liberty. Liberty likes you. One of you has got to make a move some time this century," I continue on, wringing my hands and not knowing how the hell to do this without putting my feet up both JT and Liberty's asses. "Just…Liberty went on and on at our sleepover about how much she likes you---"

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me. So, seriously just…do it. Please? Or I may have to kick your ass if you don't. One of you has got to just…make a move," I insist, almost desperately. "Please? You know you want to. Once you do, you get to make out with Liberty all you want. Is that not incentive enough?"

"You sure do know how to motivate a man, Miss Santos," JT replies, almost shyly while still cradling his mascot hand. "Fine, fine--" Something obviously distracts him. What could possibly be more important than his impending romance with Liberty becoming official? "Uh oh, take cover. It's a jock stampede. Heaven help us all."

It's then that rushing from the corner of the gym that houses the boys' locker room, everyone swivels in the direction of Degrassi's basketball team running laps, as forced by Coach Armstrong, around the roomy gymnasium. I glance to where Hazel and Paige ran off to, Hazel burying her gaze she had in Jimmy's direction into the floor. I shake my head at her, rolling my eyes and glancing back towards JT. It's then that twice this day, I see that smile in my direction.

"Yorke, man, what's up? Manny, hey."

I return the smile, realizing that my smile doesn't do to Jimmy Brooks what his does to me. I'm sure that Jimmy doesn't get that feeling in the pit of his stomach, the good kind of nervous flip flopping and the good kind of blushing. But it's all gone within five seconds after Jimmy whizzed by me, JT, and Oscar. Yet I'm still standing, staring like an idiot.

JT looks almost amused. "Oh Jimmy Brooks, I love you," He mocks in a high pitched squeaky voice. "I can't even talk to you because I just love you soooo much. You light up my world." He shakes his head. "You really do like your men to be in a band, don't you?" A dramatic sigh comes out of his mouth. "So that's why we didn't work out. I'm just not Downtown Sasquatch enough for you. I'm okay with that."

I scoff, "Zip it, Future Mr. Liberty Van Zandt." I give his shoulder a shove and trot back to where Darcy's standing.


End file.
